


Number Nine

by Measured



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: Soren looked down to where the herbs were drying. He could take Ike not remembering him. He could take sacrificing his life to be nothing more than Ike's friend, but this...he couldn't take Ike saying his name like that, looking at him like that, not when he knew that it wasn't for him. No matter what she said, it couldn't be for him.





	Number Nine

**Author's Note:**

> kink meme: Soren lets Mist play with his hair, because she's related to Ike. Soren can't get the barrettes and flowers out, so Ike helps. Except it sort of went past that. References spoilers relating to Soren's past (4-5 base scene spoilers.) Title comes from, well, [ Love Potion Number Nine!](https://bonnefois.dreamwidth.org/en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_Potion_No._9_\(song\))
> 
> Wind betaed it.

What Soren would've viewed with mere disdain in other people, Soren tolerated in Ike, and by extension, those who were related to him. It didn't, however, mean that he particularly enjoyed these attentions. Especially when they backfired so spectacularly to have Mist making him 'pretty'. He stared ahead at his tome, barely reading the page as he gritted his teeth.

All the while, Mist hummed. He'd agreed to let her brush his hair. However, he hadn't quite foreseen that a simple brushing would turn to as she put it 'beautifying'. He'd let his guard down and she'd taken advantage of it entirely. Now he could do little more than stew and wait for her to finish. She was Ike's sister, after all. He couldn't turn her away with harsh words, not if it meant making Ike angry at him.

He could smell freshly picked flowers. They were small and white, and smelled spicy with a hint of sweetness. He couldn't quite tell what kind they were, for his knowledge of herbs and plants was not quite complete–especially when it came to useless flowers only beloved by romantic girls.

"There!" She said with a bright smile. "You look _great_."

Soren just grimaced. He could only imagine.

Thankfully, he was saved from the harsh words he could no longer keep quiet by the sound of Titania calling.

"Oops, it looks like I'm late for laundry duty. See you, Soren!" Mist ran out, and Soren tugged at the braids, his muscles tense with fury. He wondered if she'd had the foresight to know he'd try and loose himself the minute she was gone. Perhaps. Greil certainly had foresight when it came to battles and people, though Ike had yet to inherit that self-awareness and maturity. Soren believed he would with time. Until then, Soren would provide all the unbiased strategy he needed.

There was no mirror, not even water to use as a looking glass. He plucked out a red flower and crushed it in his fingers, causing a fragrant oily substance to cling to them.

He had things to be doing far more important than _hair care_.

"Hey, Soren, you in there?"

Soren froze. There was no hiding in this side room, with all the brooms and boxes so neatly stacked to be impossible for cubbyholes. Mist had always complained that his neatness got in the way of her hide-and-go-seek games. Now it seemed it would impede him as well.

"Yes, Ike. I am," Soren sighed. He let his hands fall to his side in defeat. He expected to hear Ike's laughter as he turned to see him, but it was only footsteps that he heard.

"Mist wanted to turn you into a pretty princess, huh?" Ike asked.

Soren scrunched up his face in a grimace. "I don't want to talk about it." he tugged harder, but the tightly woven braids refused to give.

"Wait, Soren. You'll rip your hair–"

At this point he was thinking of _cutting it_ to avert this from ever happening again. But he stopped as Ike has told him. His hands were coarse and scarred, yet he was gentle as he began to unwork Mist's whimsy.

"She really was thorough," Ike said. He began to undo the mess of braids she'd put his hair into. "Though, it isn't too bad."

"Not too bad? I look _ridiculous._ There's _flowers_ all woven into my hair, Ike. Like I'm one of those serving girls going to a hedgewitch for a love potion and tying a cord around her wrist to meet her true love—"

"I guess you kind of resemble them," Ike said. "But you look better than they do."

Soren sent a suspicious glance his way.

"You're not...giggly," Ike said.

"Well, that's one thing I'll never be accused of being," Soren said dryly.

Ike chuckled at this, and Soren fell more into his thoughts.

They were ridiculous, those hopeful girls. It was foolishness, the thought that the flowers would attract your true love....that potions or cords to win over the Goddess's favor would do anything. What did these girls know about love? They were silly daydreaming children, waiting for a knight to come rescue them from their boring lives.

Would any of them have done anything in their power for their love, even if it was painful? Would they have given up their life for the person they loved?

As if flowers would win over a love, make him remember and really _see_ him... Soren shook his head, the fury inside him only rising in intensity. He could never brush with romantic ideals and be left feeling deeply irritated at the fantasies perpetuated.

Soren flinched as Ike pulled a little too hard, his scarred hands tugging free something from the mess of braids.

"Sorry," Ike said.

"It's all right," Soren murmured, even though his scalp still ached.

"What's this? A pouch?" Ike said.

"Let me see," Soren said.

Ike handed it over, and Soren found himself staring at a small pink pouch, tied tight at the top with a little bow.

The herbs were too spicy smelling to be merely a sachet, and he thought he felt a bit of magic in it.

"A talisman, probably. It's a method of warding to increase your resistance to magic."

Soren frowned. Perhaps she had less foresight than he thought. Being a mage meant he had plenty of resistence, while Ike could have used it. And he couldn't quite understand why she'd put it in his hair, of all places.

"How did she get that?" Ike asked.

"I don't know. Perhaps Boyd gave it to her as a trinket, he's been out on jobs recently," Soren said.

Honestly, did her questionable fashion eccentricities never cease?

"It's useless to me, though it could be very useful to you. You should take it," Soren said.

Ike took it, and Soren heard him breathe in the scent.  
  
"Smells spicy," Ike said.

"Yes, it seems to be mostly herbs, rather than bits of ore, or papers with blessings written on them. Though it could also be a case of the flowers intermingling with them after being stored together for a while," Soren said.

He turned it over a few times. There was nothing much to note. A rosy pink sachet of thick cloth, likely cut from an old dress and no patterns to speak of. It was tied with a pair of ribbons which may have once been white, and had certainly seen better days. He squeezed it and heard the rustling of dried leaves, but felt no hardness of secreted away beads or ore.  
  
"It seems to be made slightly differently than the ones I've run into, but It should work like any other at protecting you from magic," Soren said.

Soren handed it over, and he heard a crinkling as the talisman was shoved into some inner pocket of his clothes. A pause, and he suddenly realized Ike was much closer than he had thought.

"You know, you smell really nice," Ike said. Soren felt the brush of his face against his hair.

"I-It's just the flowers," Soren said. It came out harsher than he intended. Soren found himself flushed, feeling a heat in his body he'd denied for so long.

 _As long as I can stay beside him, it doesn't matter if he remembers me_ he'd thought. It'd grown harder as he allowed himself to be weak, to trust Ike, to love...

He took in a shaky breath. He was by Ike's side all the time. He dealt with whatever weaknesses he had. It must have been the flowers, causing him to be flustered and off balance. They were distracting him, that was all.

"I know, I'm not usually into flowery scents, but–"

Ike moved around to pull out the last of the flowers braided in the front. He was looking at him strangely.

"I think the flowers are going to my head," Ike said with a laugh.

"Me too," Soren said quickly. Too quickly. He felt jittery and nervous, like he'd been exposed. Ike had leaned down, and his hand was paused just at the front of Soren's hair. He lingered there, staring at Soren like he'd never seen him before–or at least, not in this _way_.

"You mind if I keep one of these? I bet Mist would like one of these dried into a bookmark.

And so the cycle of gifts continued. If Soren was more of a man of humor, he might have even laughed.

"Go ahead. Do with them what you will, I'm glad to be rid of them," Soren said. He broke off as Ike turned, and brushed against him. He hadn't realized how close he had gotten. One time he was simply the boy who had saved him, who gave meaning to his life, and then he became the only person he'd ever cared about.

His lips were slightly parted. All Soren would have to do was lean forward a few inches and their lips would meet. He could smell him, even above the heady scent of the flowers. Masculine and understated, wood smoke and sweat. He was so very close....

Soren shook his head. He couldn't let his innermost feelings—weaknesses–betray him like that.

"Did you hear that?" Soren said, his voice rising an unintended octave.

Ike seemed to break out of a daze as he looked over his shoulder. "Hear what?"

"My name. I'm certain I was just called," Soren said.

"It can't be that important," Ike said.

"No, I'm certain it was your father. So if you'll excuse me, I need to go see what I have been summoned for."

Soren left in a controlled hurry, even going so far as to hike up the skirts of his robes to keep from falling over. He didn't trust himself now, not even his balance. He'd come so close to ruining everything in that moment.

When he chanced a look back, Ike had the flower in hand and was still staring down at it.

*

Later at mess, Mist was all smiles like she knew a secret that no one else did.

"Soooo. Did it work?" Mist asked. She had both her hands behind her back, and she seemed full of excitement and energy, unable to sit till.

Soren gave her a withering look. She may have been Ike's sister, but he still hadn't forgiven her for catching him unaware and 'beautifying' him.

"Did what work?" Soren said.

"The pouch!" She said.

"It's a talisman, not a sachet. If Boyd tried to pass it off as anything else, he's mistaken as usual. I had no use for it, so I gave it to Ike."

"Oho, you did, did you?" She said. She smiled triumphantly. "Did you notice anything different?"

Soren sighed. "I wouldn't notice anything different unless I tried to attack him, and obviously that's not something I'm going to do, even in training."

"But did he act any different?" Mist persisted. She seemed unfazed, or simply uninterested in his earlier explanation.

He thought back to earlier. Ike had seemed strange, and there had been a moment he couldn't identify–no, _refused_ to identify.

"Neither of us were reacting well to the flowers," Soren said.

"Just what I wanted to hear," Mist said in a sing-song voice. She skipped off without a word, leaving Soren dazed, and more than a little suspicious in her wake.

*

The next day, Soren woke up with a cord attached to his wrist.

Groggy from just waking, Soren didn't immediately remove it. He couldn't remember adding it, but at first there was washing, getting dressed, reporting for mess. Mornings were always one of his busiest times.

He took notice when he met up with Ike, however. Ike still looked a bit dazed, though he was never a morning person, and Soren knew to wait until after breakfast before mentioning the daily schedule.

Ike leaned in.

"Ike—"

"Mmm?" Ike said.

"I believe Oscar is making a meat and egg confection for this morning," Soren said.

"Ike...."

He cursed under his breath, as the reason for the cord finally became clear.  
  
Not like this. He ached for Ike, but he wouldn't accept him being dragged in.

*

He stormed in where Mist was happily chatting away with Rolf in the training area. He moved past the weapon rack, careful not to spill it. He was trembling, and he couldn't tell if it was from rage or fear, or some mix.

"Who put on the spell?" Soren said. His voice was calm, and as cold as steel. Rolf's eyes widened, and he took a step back, toppling with some of the practice equipment, the straw dummies twirled, with a bunch of arrows adorning their chest.

"Soren!" Rolf squeaked. Soren didn't even glance his way. " _Who?_ Do you even have any idea what you do, you—"

He stopped himself and bit down on his tongue until he felt blood. _She was Ike's sister_. He couldn't, he couldn't betray him like that—

"I-I don't know what you mean," she said. She laughed nervously.

"The pouch. Who cast the spell on it?" Soren said.

"A-ah. Just the hedgewitch–she was at the last festival. We got to talking, and well, she made me that in exchange for a few gold pieces."

Soren gave her a withering look. It was the cruelest thing anyone could have done. This teasing glimpse of what would never be truly his. So close and yet so far. He spun on his heel. He couldn't loose his anger on her. It would do no good.

"A thank you would've been nice!" Mist said.

Soren turned to her.

"You don't even know what you've done," he said. He wanted to sound calm, collected, but instead he just sounded pathetic–his voice crumbling in on itself. He didn't want to reveal the hurt, even as it bubbled up in him. "You've _no idea_."

He spun on his heel and left, leaving Mist and Rolf stunned behind him. He was glad that they didn't call out. He could not have responded even if they had.

*

He left out the back passage, lest Ike see him and offer to guide him on his journey, or make some declaration of love that would be nothing by the time the spell wore off. He knew indirectly of where the hedgewitch lived, deep in the nearby forest where she had ample access to the herbs for her potions or whatever else foolish things she needed.

She was not a true mage, might not even be able to hear the spirits. She was a potion maker, a midwife and now, apparently someone who dabbled in manipulating emotions and people's lives.

Soren set his jaw as he walked through the forest. The earth was damp from last night's rain, sinking under each step. He did not fear the beasts of the forest, for since he was a child, they had always avoided him. The biggest fear was within himself, that his selfishness would take over. He clutched the pouch too tightly, because if not he'd be shaking.

While usually meticulous about such things, he could not have told the exact time it took to reach her abode. His mind was too cluttered with chaos.

She lived in the deep forest, in a hut of cast off sticks and logs. The scent of herbs and flowers was overpowering, completely overpowering the damp earthy scent of the forest. When the hedgewitch came out to peer out of the rickety door, he found she was younger than he expected, a small woman with graying brown hair and gray-blue eyes. She wore a woven wool shall, and looked like most any housewife, with little to distinguish her as a charlatan who was willing to toy with anyone's heart for the right price. She studied him a moment as he caught his breath.

It was her who spoke first.

"I see you're a magician as well," she said.

"I'm a magician, although 'as well' would be far too generous," he said.

She chuckled. "Ah, she said you were prickly."

Her eyes shone with amusement. Soren thrust out the pouch. His lip curled in disgust. "Fix it. Take off the spell. It was a stupid _whim_ of a girl who didn't know what she was getting into–"

Her eyes crinkled at the corner as she smiled. "You've never made a love potion, I suppose?" She said.

"Of course not," Soren said. "I don't bother with such _trivialities._ "

"A secret, magician to magician," she said. She brought up some dried herbs and studied them.

"Yes?" Soren said impatiently.

She did not look away from the herbs as she spoke.

"Magic only works with what is already there. And love potions only amplify, or I should say _clarify_ what that person already felt," she said.

"You're saying...."

"I'm saying that it is impossible to force someone to fall in love, magic or not," she said. "Same with aphrodisiacs. But young girls don't want to hear something like that. They want an easy out, so I give them something to make them smell sweet. A washed girl will attract a boy far better than an unwashed one."

He stood in stunned silence. He had thought her a fraud, but to come across the confirmation left him stumbling for reason.

"Then this batch must be wrong, because he's acting...."

"Like a teenage boy who's starting to see what's right before him?" she suggested, mirth dancing in her eyes.

Soren shook his head. "You're wrong—All wrong."

"Her intentions were pure, you know," the hedgewitch said. "She went on in great length on how you would be happier, if it wasn't for that clueless brother of hers."

Soren looked down to where the herbs were drying. He could take Ike not remembering him. He could take sacrificing his life to be nothing more than Ike's friend, but this...he couldn't take Ike saying his name like that, looking at him like that, not when he knew that it wasn't for him. No matter what she said, it couldn't be for him.

She sighed. "It seems a shame to simply waste what she paid. Give it here, I'll remake it into a talisman to keep him safe. Is that a good enough exchange?"

Soren nodded. "Yes, I want him to be safe."

More than anything. More than personal wants, more than the weakness of the gaping wound that was his own pathetic feelings, Ike had to come first.

He stood back and waited as she packed it with a different assortment of herbs. It was swapped for a less showy talisman, with a simple string and the usual smell of the magic resisting herbs. Soon, it was back in his hands.

"There," she said. "It will resist all spells a bit."

Soren closed his hand about the talisman.

"Don't be too hard on her, she's young and meant well," the hedgewitch said.

Soren looked over his shoulder for a moment, but did not reply to this. Instead he left out into the cold of a coming twilight.

*

It was nearly dark by the time he got back. He expected a summons from commander Greil, and perhaps a punishment. Then again, commander Greil was used to him going off when things had upset him, and he had never been admonished before. But then, he'd never stayed out this late. The sky was orange, the trees dark shapes on the skyline. He'd been walking in a stunned numbness the whole way. Ike could have been his, but not at that price, never at that price. Each step before him was automatic, a steady unthought pace until he reached the gates. Then he slowed, noticing the silhouetted form of someone there, waiting.

"Soren?"

"Yes...I'm here," Soren said.

Ike came out from the shadows, dusty and a little tanned. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a few bruises he'd received in training.

"Where'd you go off to?" Ike said. "When you didn't come back for ages, I got worried."

He felt a cold dread as there was that butterfly wing feeling, that hopefulness. He swallowed it back and focused again on the blank feeling of before.

"I was fixing the talisman," Soren said. He handed it over without looking at Ike. She was a crafty old hedgewitch, probably playing a trick on him. Ike felt nothing for him but friendship. It wasn't steeped in anything, let alone feelings for him.

"Thanks, Soren," Ike said. He smiled a bit as he lifted it up into the light. "It's much better, now. It sort of looked like a cake before."

Soren couldn't help smile at that, but it came out wan and more bitter than he intended. "Indeed."

"You could've asked me to take you there, you know," Ike said. "You know that, right? That you can always call me for things like that?"

"I....know," Soren said. He cleared his throat and faltered. "I didn't want to interrupt your training."

"'s nothing. I wouldn't have minded. Besides..." Ike rubbed at the back of his neck in an almost...embarrassed manner. "I got distracted without you here, and Boyd knocked me a good one. He hasn't shut up about it since."

Soren stepped closer, looking him over for the injury. If Boyd hurt him, he'd never forgive the lout. Never—

"It's nothing, really," Ike said. He smiled a smiled lopsidedly. "Just let me know, okay? Or better yet, take me along."

"Ah....yes," Soren said.

"Is everything all right with you? You've been acting weird ever since Mist brought that thing home. Are you sure it wasn't cursed?" Ike said.

"No, it wasn't anything like that," Soren said.

In a sudden jerk, Ike reached for Soren's hands and turned them over. He was just as close as before.

"You still smell sort of spicy," Ike said.

He was looking at him like that again. Soren shook his head. Whether the hedgewitch had been lying or not, Ike hadn't changed. He was still...off.

It came to him that moment memories he had forced himself to forget. The moment he'd walked off with another mercenary group to take stock for a price. It'd taken him longer than expected, and Ike had that same sort of piercing gaze which left him breathless.

He'd taken him into an embrace then, and Soren could even now recall the startling feel of closeness, how one of his hands had rested at the back of his head.

These were all long before the so-called love potion, or the cord had been tied around his wrist.

And more came up, moments where Ike had dropped whatever he was doing to stay near, moments he'd fallen asleep on Soren's shoulder in moments of rest. Had he been so focused on keeping himself together that he'd missed out on what was right before him?  
  
He'd never let himself hope, because hope hurt too much.

Even now he barely let himself believe.

But his heart, his perfidious heart beat inside his chest so much. Ike's hands were still on him, so warm and rough.

"Soren?"

"I'll tell you next time," Soren said, barely above a whisper. Though whether he meant this mass of chaotic emotions inside him, or possible trips, he couldn't tell.

He had never found a way to turn his heart into stone, not with Ike around.


End file.
